Some outfits still work after 20 years, and “Devil Wears Prada” is an example. In “Devil Wears Prada 2,” Anne Hathaway is back as Andy Sachs, once a stumbling administrative assistant, now a respected reporter at the fictional New York Vanguard. Like her, Emily Blunt’s character (also Emily) has moved on — to a senior role at Dior. Back at Runway magazine, Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestly is still at the helm, while Stanley Tucci’s Nigel remains her loyal and much put-upon associate.  

Fashion aficionados will not be disappointed: the movie is a sartorial candy store, with long fashion show runway scenes and endless celebrity cameos. But at its heart, this sequel is less about fashion and more about journalism. “Prada 2” tries to engage with the crisis of the digital age gripping the publishing business, although it’s dealt with superficially and pulls its punches. Andy and her team are fired at the start of the movie, pushing her back into the world of fashion journalism to a Runway that is the subject of an ownership rivalry between two billionaires.  

This revisiting is lighter and more playful than the original. It has a cartoonish, slapstick quality. The beloved characters are there with all their familiar idiosyncrasies — Andy’s well-meaning self-righteousness, Emily’s acerbic wit, Miranda’s flamboyance and Nigel’s fastidious attention to fashion details.

Reunited with the old gang as the newly-apointed Runway features editor, Andy confronts the challenge of a world that has moved from news and commentary to content and influencers. Journalism is imploding, and the boundaries between serious and frivolous are being erased, leaving Andy to defend long-form writing of any kind. The devil may still be wearing Prada, but she’s no longer reading Runway, at least, not in print.

There are frequent montages and occasionally flat dialogue, but what keeps your attention is the chemistry between the four leads. I wanted to like Andy. She’s clearly a good person, but even when she’s writing for Runway, she has an aggravating superiority complex, telling her contractor boyfriend that journalism is important while his construction projects cause gentrification (although she has no problem living in the building he’s just rehabbed).

Unlike Andy’s confident persona, Miranda is weaker and cannot openly bully as she once did, mirroring the state of Runway magazine. She has to hang up her own coat rather than throwing it on an assistant’s desk and must fly economy, although for some reason still stays in a giant suite in a Milan hotel. Nigel remains glorious and unchanged, although by the end he is revealed as more strategic than stoic. Emily seems vacant but actually delivers some of the movie’s home truths: the fashion industry has adapted more successfully than journalism, bringing a version of luxury that is just within reach for average incomes.

For all its frivolity, the film occasionally bites into something more substantial. There’s a critique there not only of the waning power of conventional print journalism but also of the rise of billionaires as media owners who snap up storied titles as if they were accessories. But just when it feels on the verge of cultural criticism, the movie pulls back and chooses a well-worn comfortable ending, just like Andy’s “ugly” cerulean sweater.